Bonfire Night With Friends
by theoneheartthatbeats
Summary: It's almost the 5th November and Britain is excited that he's finally got his own national holiday to rub in everyone's faces, but he's not so keen on spending it alone... Especially with all the big parties America throws all the time. Can he manage to convince someone to share the festival with him?
1. Chapter 1

_**November**_** 1st**

If you were to journey through the long corridors that wound their way through the maze-like mansion, and came across the fourth door on your left on the first floor's Eastern hallway, then you would see a very peculiar man having a very peculiar staring match with a Victorian telephone. The man was peculiar because of the frown that was painted on his face using his oddly large eyebrows, and the staring match was peculiar because telephones do not have eyes, and therefore the whole thing is rather pointless.

If you could read minds I would first of all wonder why you would be reading this when you could be using your powers for the greater good, but if you _could_ read minds – and you decided to read this man's – you would, more or less, see this: _It wouldn't hurt to invite him just this once, would it? No, of course not, he considers you a friend – he's annoying, loud, stupid- I could go on! – but he won't refuse. Besides, you had to go through his stupid 'Independence Day' nonsense, so why not make him sit through an actual celebration, which, may I remind you, is far _older _and more _traditional _than either of his so-called 'national festivals' could ever hope to be. I could just invite someone else… But there isn't the security of them saying yes! Oh for the love of Pete! Phone the stupid moron and just ask him! He won't think much of it – won't try and read too much into it like others might. Pick. Up. The. Damn. Phone._

He lunged forwards, throwing the receiver up to his ear and whirling his finger around the numbers, finally stepping back, panting a little. The few seconds that passed felt like forever, and indeed for Arthur Kirkland, standing drearily in his living room on the first of November, it may well have felt that way, but for Matthew Williams, a brave Canadian who was, at that moment, wrestling a bear, the seconds passed all too quickly. Soon after a voice echoed through the other end and Arthur felt his breathing slow and his heartbeat quicken in one smooth motion.

"Yo. Wassup? Alfred here." Just listening to that annoying accent and misuse of the Queen's English made Arthur just want to punch him in his stupid-

"Yes, it's Arthur-"

"Artie! How's it going bud?" Here he was forced to extend the receiver as far away from his ear as humanly possible, which was, unfortunately, not very far, otherwise he feared the volume would destroy his ears.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur continued, regretting his decision to even get out of bed that morning, when he had woken up on the wrong side. "Fine, fine. Now listen for a moment-"

"Hey, d'ya think you could come over? I just got this _awesome_ new game, but you can only level up if you play with someone else. Think you're my man?" Unbeknownst to Alfred, Arthur had sunk to his knees in frustration and defeat, his hand slowly and shakily bringing itself up to his forehead in preparation for the large shouting fit that was about to present itself – and unbeknownst to the both of them, the brave, bear-wrestling Canadian, Matthew Williams, had won.

"Shut up just for one second!" He yelled, standing up again and beating a clenched fist against the wall. "It's always just constant noise and nonsense spilling from your mouth; all I can hear is constant blah blah blah! Do you ever stop? I'm sick to death of it! I was _going_ to invite you to my house for a Bonfire Night celebration with fireworks! And-and food! But all you've done for yourself is just annoy me. Could you not show some respect and let someone else speak? Is that not the gentlemanly thing to do? Good day, Jones!" And with that Arthur hung up, perhaps a little more violently than was necessary, and sat down heavily on the sofa, arms crossed and absolutely fuming.

* * *

Alfred was still blinking in his surprise when his phone informed him that his good friend and old mentor Arthur Kirkland had, indeed, hung up. He was standing there, still slightly taken aback, as he tried to process everything that had been said piece by piece.

_Do you ever stop?_ Of course he stopped talking. Alfred was a person; he needed to eat and sleep, though Arthur may have told him off for talking during both of those activities at some time or another, but that did not really matter. Anyway, he had not spoken a word during the entire rant! So there, Alfred F. Jones could jolly well stop talking.

_I was going to invite you to my house for a Bonfire Night celebration. _That made Alfred stop and think for a second. The fact that Arthur had considered asking him was – some might say _unusually_ – kind for him to do, and Alfred certainly would not have refused, especially at the mention of fireworks coupled with food. Plus, if he did not go, then Arthur would not come to Thanksgiving later on and for some reason that seemed like a very bad outcome.

_Good day, Jones!_ Drat, the fact that he was referred to by his surname made Alfred wince, remembering back when he was a kid; being referred to by his last name usually meant he was in deep, _deep_ trouble and that Arthur was very, _very _angry – this is destroying-pointless-vase-that-nobody-liked-but-now-appears-to-be-an-ancient-heirloom-that-is-utterly-one-hundred-percent-irreplaceable angry.

As Alfred decided to distract himself using the game he had mentioned, hoping that some food would also help with the decision of whether or not to call Arthur back, his brother Matthew returned triumphant, albeit with slightly torn clothes. He took off his coat and, after hanging it up, decided that he well deserved a nice, steamy, maple syrup-covered batch of pancakes. It took him a short while to realise that something was not quite right with his entrance into the house. He was sitting and facing the formidable tower of pancakes, drumming his fingers against the table impatiently trying to figure out exactly what it was that was missing. It only took a small yelp from the sofa where his brother was playing some odd platform game for Matthew to realise that he had not been pounced on when he opened the door and barricaded with all sorts of random facts in a loud American accent. Deciding that something was wrong with Alfred, Matthew did his best to finish the pancakes quickly and cosy down on the sofa next to his brother, softly prodding the younger in the side in the hopes of gaining his attention, but he just got a sort of grunt, which was probably the best Alfred could manage with his tongue sticking out as much as it did in his concentration.

"So…" said Matthew, attempting to begin some form of conversation and picking off some dried blood from a nosebleed he had gained from his earlier brawl. "Did anything happen while I was out getting supplies?" He could not help nudging Alfred in some encouraging show to get him to say something, which was not often a problem in the household – the problem tended to lean more towards getting him to shut up afterwards.

Alfred just shrugged, putting his energy into hitting one button on his controls repeatedly as fast as he could. "Well, Artie called; said he was going to invite me to a bonfire celebration or something, but _apparently_ I annoyed him. I mean, can you believe that?" Matthew's facial expression changed to one of pain, as he could very well imagine Alfred getting on everyone's nerves in one day – he had _that much_ potential for annoyance.

"You going to call him back?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, I mean I asked him if he wanted to play this game with me and he didn't even _care_. I don't know if it's worth it."

"Why can't I play with you, eh?"

Alfred paused the game and turned to his elder brother with a look that said 'I'm sorry, but…' and those were exactly the words he said as he put his hands on Matthew's shoulders and let their blue eyes meet. "I'm sorry, but I just don't know if you'd be all that great at it."

Matthew could almost feel his eyebrows leaving his forehead they rose so high in disbelief and his eyes kept switching from narrowed to having all the white showing as his mouth flexed its muscles looking for something to say. Could his brother not remember how Arthur played video games? Matthew would be ten times better than him any day! Finally he removed Alfred's hands from his shoulders and left, raising his hands defensively.

"Fine Alfred. I don't care. You can play your stupid game by yourself. When you're confused and Arthur hates you, don't come to me, 'cos I will be too busy _actually being nice to people who offer to help me_. Jerk." He added slamming his bedroom door shut and turning on some music to calm his nerves.

Deciding against continuing with his game, Alfred turned off the machine and went off in search of food; it was getting late anyway, so he could sleep on it and hopefully come up with a solution tomorrow. He returned to the sofa with a Burger King meal Matthew must have picked up on the way over. The place was not getting much attention, but the two brothers remained loyal to it, they had even started a tradition of going every Thursday for dinner, and Alfred was convinced that Matthew had a thing for one of the girls who worked there and requested that she serve them every time.

Putting KICKASSIA into the DVD player, he settled back into the sofa, grinning broadly and looking forward to watching the film, but somehow his mind kept wondering back to the telephone call and then to the conversation with Matthew. The voices in his head struck up a conversation. _Maybe you're the problem._ Squeaked Reason, the quietest and least listened to of all the voices. _You annoyed two people so maybe it's _you_ not them._ Alfred was trying his best to focus on the film without his conscious telling him these things, so he silently thanked Ego and Arrogance for shutting the smaller voice up so he could continue watching.

* * *

Arthur on the other hand, had secretly wanted Alfred to call back, and when he did not, that just put the elder into an even fouler mood than before, causing him to storm up to his bedroom and toss and turn all night in his mental discomfort.


	2. Chapter 2

_**November **_**2nd **

The next day did not start at all well for Arthur. First he woke up on his side, which gave him the combination of a dead leg and a dead arm; then he realised he had run out of Traditional Breakfast Tea and had to stick with Earl Grey which would have been more than welcome at _any other time of the day_; after that he decided to watch some of his old cricket matches he had recorded, and ended up watching exactly all the wrong ones. Surprisingly, it was around midday, when Arthur was contemplating whether or not to have Shepherd's Pie or Toad-In-A-Hole for lunch, that he remembered the phone call from the day before and immediately his day got ten times worse.

It was infuriating how his mind was nagging him to telephone Alfred one more time just to see if maybe he'd changed his mind_. But_, Arthur reasoned with himself, _if he had changed his mind he would've phoned back and he most certainly is yet to do that, so he's probably still being an ungrateful swine; just lying down somewhere whilst poor Matthew- Matthew!_ Arthur snapped up in his burst of genius and leant towards the handset that was resting on a stand next to the sofa he was perched on. Matthew was the good, obedient child. Matthew would definitely agree to join Arthur on this special day, right?

The fact that those reassurances were the _exact_ same things he told himself the day before made Arthur hesitate and put the telephone down, frowning at his sudden acceptance that he would probably be spending Bonfire Night alone and that he may have to make himself a sorrowful cake for him to celebrate with. He would find some fireworks in the afternoon and use the walk to the shop to get some fresh air and hopefully clear his head to make an informed decision on whether or not to phone Alfred and whether it was actually worth the trouble.

* * *

The day had been going great for Alfred. He woke up full of beans; he feasted on a massive breakfast of waffles whilst Matthew tried to convince him to apologize not only to himself but to Arthur too, not that Alfred was actually listening; after that he spent a while playing video games and snacking. The only small annoyances were the looks he was stealing at the phone in the corner that was just _waiting_ for him to call Arthur back. Matthew, who had tried his hardest to get absorbed in his book, noticed these glances and could not help sneaking a small smile.

"You know you can call him, right?" He said, adjusting his position and bookmarking his place with a finger.

Alfred let out a short but loud laugh. "But callin' back means admitting I'm wrong, and I'm never wrong!" Matthew rolled his eyes and tried to snuggle deeper into his red hoodie, bringing the book back up to his nose and hoping that he would somehow arrive in the other universe instead of the one he had been forced to inhabit. A sharp intake of breath came from Alfred, and it could not have been the game as he was at a relatively calm point in it, so it was obviously something he had been thinking about, which was relatively surprising as nobody would have suspected for a second that Alfred could multitask. "I know, Mattie!" Matthew looked up the mention of his nickname, Alfred hitting the pause button and facing his brother, an odd spark flaring in his bright blue eyes. "I'll set up a surprise party for him! Everyone likes surprise parties, right dude? It'll seem like that was my plan all along and then Artie'll feel so _stupid_ and he'll apologize to me!" The elder brother could see several flaws in the younger's plan, but it would take a while to point them all out _and_ explain them. Anyway, he was far too scared of what was about to ensue.

One time, a few years back, Alfred had learned about Robert Burn's Night. He was immediately enthralled by the concept, deciding to make a surprise party and Burn's Night Supper. As soon as he wheeled out his homemade haggis Arthur immediately regretted everything. Not just allowing this to happen, but also finding Alfred in the first place. And when Alfred stood up to recite Scottish poetry in make-shift accent… Well, Arthur got an absolute thrashing from his elder brother for even thinking about inviting such a 'boggin, oof-lookin, glaikit numpty'. From then on everyone unanimously agreed to never let Alfred arrange a surprise party for Arthur ever again.

Matthew sighed, closing his eyes and fighting with his mind on whether or not he should step in and stop Alfred from making a horrible mistake and possibly endangering someone's life – especially as there were going to be fireworks, that was practically a disaster waiting to happen! He would have to tell Alfred gently; it was a kind gesture after all. Matthew wearily opened his eyes, trying to arrange a sympathetic look which soon turned into one of marginal surprise, then into one of concern.

It seemed that Alfred had upped and left whilst Matthew was hosting his inner debate, and was now on the phone at the other end of the room. The elder tilted his head back against the armrest in exasperation. It was too late to stop him now.

* * *

Upon arriving at the fireworks hut Arthur felt his spirit leave him. He had been hoping to get to grips with the situation but had ended up coming up with more reasons for and against asking Alfred again than he had in the first place, so he felt rather exhausted by it. It looked like the shop keeper was in the back room, and sounded like he was on the phone, so Arthur picked up some of the good fireworks, wrote himself a receipt before leaving the money and receipt on the counter and leaving. He really was not in the right frame of mind for patience.

As soon as he entered the house and dumped the fireworks by the door, Arthur flopped down on the nearest sofa and just stayed there a while, his face being dented into a cushion. He wished he could just stay like that forever and not do anything – not have to eat or drink or move. Suddenly the cushion began to feel a little soggy and Arthur reluctantly pushed himself up to look at it, wondering what it was, though his wonders were confirmed by a prickling in his eyes. _Oh God. I'm crying. Great. Just peachy. Babies cry. Fully grown adults do not cry. What am I doing? I'm acting like some stupid teenage girl crying over a break-up. I'm better than this._ And with that blast of self-motivation Arthur went off to get one of the embroidery projects he was yet to finish and restarted it, relaxing back on the sofa and trying not to think about how few friends he had and how unhelpful the friends he had actually were.

* * *

Alfred was grinning broadly when he hung up and brushed his hands definitively. "That's it! Everyone is now invited to Artie's house for bonfire night. Complete with dress code and stuff to bring!" He plopped back down on the sofa and picked up the game again, looking mighty proud of himself.

"I know; I heard you." Matthew grimaced at his brother's unnecessarily loud voice, doing his best to finally continue with the book.

"Speaking of which," Alfred said, looking at the floor before looking at his brother, a confused look painted on his face. "When is Bonfire Night?" Matthew tried his best to avoid staring for too long at Alfred, but did not do very well, as Alfred had to wave his hand wildly in front of his eyes in order to bring the elder brother back down to Earth.

* * *

If he was honest, Françis knew that Arthur could sink to unsinkable lows, but if Arthur really _really_ wanted Françis to come _that much_ that he would ask Alfred to deliver the invitation for him, well, perhaps he could make it to the celebration after all _and_ use it as a good reason to force Arthur to watch Les Miserables with him on Bastille Day. Yes, maybe this would not be so bad after all.

As it turned out, Françis was not the only invitee who was travelling along that thought – a few thought that Arthur would get mad if they did not come; a few owed a favour to either Alfred or Arthur; and a few thought that it just sounded like a hoot.

It seemed that Arthur would get a lot more than he bargained for in calling Alfred…


	3. Chapter 3

**_November_**** 3rd**

It was six in the morning and if this had been an ordinary day Alfred F. Jones would have been tightly encased in his duvet, not ready to step into the harsh reality of the outside world, but today he was sitting on his brother's shoulders and looking through Arthur's window to make sure he was still asleep; which he was. As soon as Matthew had received two kicks to the gut – a not-very-well-thought-through signal that they were good to go – he heaved Alfred's heavy form off himself and doubled over, speechless and panting. Alfred grabbed the spare keys from behind the flower box and leaped over to the front door, marvelling at the amount of locks that adorned it and would make this task so much easier. He locked and unlocked several, leaving Matthew to note down which, and after locking the back and side doors too, along with all the windows they could reach without causing Matthew more permanent back damage, they returned the keys to their original position and headed back to the red truck that sat outside the driveway.

Matthew sat in the driver's seat peering through his glasses at the house as Alfred reached behind them and brought out the 'breakfast' that had been purchased at one of the Starbucks' that now extended themselves to such ungodly hours as five in the morning. They sat there for a while in silence, just staring at the curtained windows and eating; it may be one of Arthur's special days they were preparing for, but that did not mean he would not be able to ruin it.

Suddenly Alfred's phone started vibrating on the dashboard and he stretched over to retrieve it, quickly answering with a glad excuse to exercise his voice.

"Hey! How's it goin' down your end Pasta-Eagle?" He grinned at the use of the codenames that he had taken the liberty of making up for everyone. "Got the supplies?"

"Si, Burger-Eagle, I found it. Should we start or wait until you and Pancake-Eagle get back?"

The question caught Alfred off guard as he had just stuffed a large bit of his cookie into his mouth, so had to wait a second before answering. "Nah, you're good to go; me 'n Pancake-Eagle are gonna be here a _long_ time. As long as everyone's there you guys can start whenever." He did not wait for the reply, swiftly hanging up and putting the mobile down, the grin still plastered on his face as he dove back into his breakfast.

Meanwhile, Matthew had brought out his binoculars and started tapping Alfred's leg to get his attention. "We have movement. Here, look." He passed the binoculars over and watched. Arthur was out of bed and had just opened the curtains (Alfred could not help spluttering his orange juice slightly at the pink floral pattern he had not noticed before) and was proceeding to stretch quite animatedly, for a second causing the brother's to think that they'd been spotted, but he then walked out and was continuing to open all the curtains that were not already so. Matthew found himself jotting these actions down in one of the notepads he always kept on him, earning a chuckle from Alfred who had momentarily taken the binoculars away from his face.

"You're acting like a stalker, Mattie- I mean, Pancake-Eagle." The elder decided to ignore both of the nicknames and the comment, going back to spying on Arthur, who was now making some porridge and a cup of tea (_Dammit_ Arthur thought, mentally kicking himself, _Forgot to buy breakfast tea yesterday._). "Whoa does Arthur lead a boring life." Alfred commented as the other finished off breakfast and headed upstairs to get changed. "This the good bit!" He exclaimed, grabbing Matthew's knee and biting his lip, as Arthur stood _directly parallel _to the window and began to get changed. It is probably best for me not to go into too much detail here, but let us just say that this was a high point in an otherwise bleak day, especially as after that Arthur did nothing more than grab some embroidery and continue on that. It seemed like perhaps the locking of every viable exit had been unnecessary.

As soon as he began to cook lunch it reminded the brother's to buy their own, and with a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors ("Haha! Never go Scissors on your first shot, Mattie!") it was decided that Alfred could stretch his legs and go out to buy lunch from whatever the nearest fast-food chain was. He jogged down to McDonald's, grasping a handful of notes and grinning broadly at his genius for beating his brother in Rock-Paper-Scissors.

Just as he was about to enter, Alfred heard a voice calling him and whirled round to see who it belonged to. "Hey! Alfred, wait up!" The voice belonged to Feliks Łukasiewicz who had Toris Laurinaitis in full tow and was sprinting towards him, before skidding to a halt and catching his breath. Alfred could not help noticing that even though Feliks was wearing an ordinary shirt, his jeans did not seem to fit him right, and he could not help wondering if they had been meant for a fema-

"Alfred! I was wondering if you wanted me to make, like, Bigos or something for Arthur's thing." He looked up at Alfred expectantly, but Alfred had absolutely no idea what Bigos was or meant, so he just smiled half-nervously and laughed.

"Sure, go ahead! Why not, y'know?" He was still laughing as he entered the restaurant and tried to guess what Matthew might want to eat. Alfred had been asked to get something, but had not been paying attention, so went with just getting a Happy Meal with chicken nuggets for his brother and a Quarter Pounder for himself, remembering to pick up some drinks too and heading off back to the truck.

Alfred heaved himself up into the seat and passed Matthew his food, too busy with his own food to really pay attention to the brother's expression. "A Happy Meal? With milk? _Really_, Alfred? Did you even pay attention to what I asked for?" Alfred just shrugged in response and Matthew could almost feel his blood boil. "See _this_ is your problem, right here; you never listen! I asked for a cheeseburger Al! Not whatever the hell this is! Ugh, sometimes I don't know what the heck is wrong with you."

During the rant Alfred had taken the binoculars and was settling for looking through them for a while, watching Arthur clear away his plates and sift through his DVDs, before pulling one out and lying back on the sofa. Every so often he let out a laugh and if Alfred tilted around in _just the right way_ – automatically leaning over Matthew and earning himself a scowl – he could see the television screen and could make out this guy standing on a stage just talking, probably some stand-up comedian.

The sun was beginning to set when Matthew's mobile rang out American Idiot in the small cabin, ignoring the weird look he was getting from Alfred, he picked it up and answered. A strong accent came through the other end.

"Bonjour Mathieu, it's Françis. We haven't finished our part yet, I assume we have time tomorrow, oui?"

Matthew nodded, before realising he could not be seen. "Uh, oui, you can finish tomorrow; you guys have until the day after to do it." He heard Françis thank him before he hung up and settled down, watching through the window as Arthur slowly headed upstairs into his room where he began getting changed again. "He probably won't leave now, eh?" Matthew asked, relaxing back into the seat and beginning to start up the engine.

Nodding, Alfred also leant back into the seat, letting the binoculars rest in his lap and feeling as though he had done a good deed that day. "Same thing tomorrow?" He asked as the truck jumped to life and began to head down the street, the disappearing sun causing the street lights to turn on as they went.

"Nope. I am _not_ going through today again, _ever_. Make someone else do it; someone like Lukas and Emil or Elizabeta and Roderich, 'cos I am _not_ doing this ever _ever_ again. Ever." Alfred then proceeded to realise that he was yet to come up with nicknames for any of those people, before he gave up and decided to call on Tino, as everyone else was already on some sort of duty as it was.

A cheerful voice chattered through. "Haloo? Kuka se on?"

"Hey, I don't what that was, but it's Alfred-"

"Alfred! It's great that you called; we haven't spoken in a while, no?" Matthew could not help but smirk and try to contain his laughter at the fact that Alfred had been interrupted.

"Yeah. Hey, I know you've not got a job yet for Arthur's party, so can you just stay outside his house tomorrow? You can bring someone if ya want, we just need to make sure he doesn't leave or anything. Oh, and make sure he stays within your sight, if he goes into the back rooms tell me, okay? Great! See ya in two days' time, dude!" With a look of accomplishment Alfred hung up and settled down, after a while falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_**November **_**4th**

Amongst the feeling of a wet patch on his cheek and pillow and the stinging sensation of sleep and morning light on his peering eyes, Alfred could also feel vibrations racking through the bed sheets. Groaning, he swung a hand down, groggily searching for what was causing his discomfort, causing his hand to rest on a cool object that shook his tired fingers as he propped himself up and leant against the headboard, feeling for his glasses on the bedside table and getting the sleep out his eyes. _Vibrations. Phone. Phone is ringing. Should answer. _Once this string of relatively simple thoughts had been processed Alfred hit the answer button and pulled it to his ear, using his other hand to straighten his hair and pull down his Captain America T-Shirt he had worn as a pyjama substitute, which had ridden up in the night.

"Alfred? What's wrong? I tried calling you four times already!" The familiar voice of Tino called through the other end. _Oh yeah, he was doing that thing today…_

"Yeah, well, it _is_ pretty early, y'know?"

There was a splutter on the other end. "Early? _Early?_ Alfred, it's twenty minutes to noon!"

The fact that the only thought that responded to the news was _Oh, _may have been viewed as odd in itself, but Alfred still was not awake and so it has been estimated that the news of the Apocalypse would simply have sprung a response of 'So lunch is off then?'. It is also causing some controversy in many of the leading institutes whether Alfred's obliviousness to Tino's stress was due to his drowsiness or his overall personality, though some peacemakers believe both.

"So, why'd ya call?" Alfred tried to find out the reason he had been taken from his slumber so _early _in the morning.

"You told me to tell you if Arthur did anything weird, right? Well, right now he's getting changed into… really weird clothes. Here, I'll send you a picture. Moi moi!" Alfred was slowly gaining his ability to keep up with real time, and using this power he looked at the phone screen which had changed to the text screen as a message came through carrying a picture. It was a photo of Tino and Berwald at a café in Amsterdam; they were dressed in Dutch fashions (not that Alfred could tell) and were holding marshmallow and strawberry sticks which had been dunked in a chocolate fountain that was just visible in the background. Moments later a second text came through; 'I am so sorry! could you delete that? here's the proper one' And following that came a photo of Arthur dressed in a very odd outfit; a black hat with a buckle and puffy trousers. Alfred slowly started to change into some jeans and socks before replying 'k sry i dk wut hes doin' and heading into the kitchen.

Matthew was preparing a sandwich and had his back facing the door when Alfred entered, noticing the pile of wicker dolls that had been assembled on the table, though some were missing parts of their bodies and only a selected few were in pile of 'perfect' ones. The coffee maker beeped and Matthew turned, seeing his brother's frame in the doorway.

"Good Morning! I did make you pancakes but you didn't get up, I can warm them up again if you want them for… brunch, I guess?" He poured out the coffee and went to retrieve the pancakes from the fridge.

"Yeah, thanks dude." Alfred grinned, pulling Matthew into a hug before sliding off and waiting outside the microwave, eagerly moving around the balls of his feet. "Oh yeah, what's with the dolls?" He nodded to the pile of figures as the microwave finished and headed down to the sofa where Matthew had already settled with his normal lunch.

"Those? Oh, I was making effigy's of Guy Fawkes – apparently it's a British law, though not everyone still does it. I figured Arthur still does though, so me and some of the others made these for him, we'll burn them tomorrow."

Alfred then remembered the earlier conversation with Tino and figured that Matthew might know what it was all about. "Hey, Tino called about weird events at Artie's, d'ya know what he's doing?" He found the photo on his phone and, whilst trying to still balance the almost-finished pancakes on his lap, showed it to Matthew, who frowned and rested his empty plate on the coffee table before pulling up his laptop from the floor.

After much typing, clicking and more typing, finally Matthew swivelled the laptop around to show his brother, a look of accomplishment on his face. "Looks like his dressing up like someone from the Stuart Era; when Guy Fawkes was around."

Alfred paused his last forkful on its journey to his mouth for a moment. "Okay, two questions; one, what's a Stuart Era? Two, who's Guy Fawkes?" For both questions Matthew mentally sighed, and far away Arthur felt a shiver down his spine and sneezed, wondering why his urge to punch Alfred in the face had suddenly become stronger.

"Alfred, you should really know about the Stuarts, after all, they _were_ the rulers of England _and _America before the Georgians and _George the Third._" Alfred winced at the name. "They were there near the beginning of the English colonialisation of America, I'm surprised you don't know. Wait, actually… No, I'm not surprised… As for Guy Fawkes, he tried blowing up parliament, and failed. Well, he wasn't the only one, there were actually thirt-"

"That sounds pretty cool! So, because some dude tried blowing up parliament Artie has fireworks? Awe-some!" Matthew rolled his eyes slightly at his brother's energeticness and turned on the television, relaxing back into the warmed up folds of the sofa, Alfred following suit as Adventure Time came on to relax them both.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mathias Køhler was splayed out on Françis's coffee table, groaning loudly and trying to soothe his flour-covered fingers, causing a small snowstorm to fall on him from his outstretched arms. Françis was a few feet away in the kitchen, putting the final touches on the large cake Mathias had just finished. He was getting great joy from making all the little twirls and roses, making sure every inch was covered in the white icing that shone like tiny diamonds. Ludwig was going to arrive any moment now to create his famous red and blue sugar sculptures to add an abstract feel to it all.

At the other end of the kitchen Kiku and Yao were trying their best to replicate traditional English dishes. "Aiyah! This recipe does not even say whether to use lamb or beef!" Yao complained, throwing his hands in the air in his annoyance at the poorly written instructions. "Nevermind, I'll just use lamb as there seems to be quite a lot here…" Kiku was trying to ignore the elder's comments, focusing his energy on making the Shropshire Pea Soup he had been assigned.

Françis's home had been elected as the hub for everyone who had been given a job to do with cookery, as a result the kitchen was filled with excitement and wonderful aromas as the various chefs rushed around with their duties.

Other homes had also been given their own jobs too: Feliciano and Lovino were hoarding the creative types; Ivan had gathered a few of his 'friends' and were working on floral arrangements and other such decorations; Lili was head of a sewing group who were all working their fingers to the bone with costumes; and Elizabeta and her assembly were doing the research – though through Gilbert's boredom it had become more of a game than anything else, they were just spinning around on their chairs and looking up minigames on the computers.


End file.
